


We Go Down Together

by Theoroark



Series: Dark Room [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cabaret Luna, F/F, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paris - Freeform, Team Talon (Overwatch), background pharmercy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: When a Talon Assassin goes AWOL, Sombra, Widow, and Akande head to Paris to retrieve her. But Widow suspects Sombra knows more than she's letting on.





	1. Chapter 1

“She’s late,” Akande said. He was sitting at the head of the conference table, tapping his stylus against the smart surface, sending projected menus popping up in the air. To his right, Widowmaker sighed.

 

“Would you like me to go fetch her for you?”

 

“She’ll be here eventually,” Akande said, ignoring Widow’s sarcasm. “She just has to inconvenience everyone first. It’s incredibly annoying.”

 

Widow’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “She’ll be more annoying when she’s here, though.” Akande laughed.

 

“You’re right,” he said and just like that, Sombra walked in, holding one of her disgusting energy drinks and looking utterly unbothered.

 

“What’d I miss?” she asked.

 

“Nothing.” Akande tapped the table more forcefully. “We were waiting for you.”

 

“Great.” Sombra slid into the chair next to Sombra, leaving the left side of the table empty. Widow could tell from the way Akande’s forehead twitched that it bothered him. “Let’s get started, then.”

 

Images shot out from the table, obscuring Akande’s aggravated expression. “Two days ago, Assassin unit #3 went AWOL,” he said. Widow leaned in, the tip of her nose brushing against the hologram of the red-helmeted profile. “An contact spotted her in Paris, but was not able to detain her, for… obvious reasons.” Widow shifted to face the looping video of a training exercise, where Unit #3 zipped around the room in streaks of red, and eviscerated a dummy the second she touched the ground. “The three of us, however, have the skill set needed to apprehend her. We move out tomorrow. Questions?”

 

Widow raised her hand. Sombra spoke out anyway. “Wait. Hang on. Like, we’re doing an away mission? Us three?”

 

“Yes,” Akande said. “Is there a problem?”

 

“I mean. Gabe normally does those with us, is all.”

 

“We will be operating publicly in a high density population area and Reyes is… indiscreet.” Akande turned to Widow before Sombra could respond. “Lacroix?”

 

“Do we know Unit #3’s motives?”

 

“For desertion, or for Paris?”

 

“Both, I suppose.”

 

“No.” The projected images lowered slightly, and Widow could see Akande again. He looked tired. “O’Deorain has assured me that it is a malfunction in her conditioning, and that she is acting erratically and randomly. That this is a glitch, not premeditated subversion.”

 

“But that’s bullshit,” Sombra said.

 

“O’Deorain is your superior,” Akande said, in a tone far too indignant for a man who had used worse language to complain about O’Deorain to Widow in private. “But I do believe the possibility that Unit #3 actively chose to desert should not be discounted.”

 

“Especially since she’s evading contact,” Widow said.

 

“Quite.” The images projected by the table changed, replaced by a 3D map of a city Widow instantly recognized as Paris. There was a glowing red dot in the downtown area, and Akande pointed to it. “That is our last known sighting,” he said. A tall building lit up in blue. “And this is where we’ll be staying. Plan for extended stay, a few days at the least.” He looked at the two women. “Any other questions?”

 

“Can’t I do this remotely?” Sombra asked.

 

“Dismissed.” Akande stood and briskly walked out of the briefing room. Sombra sighed and stood as well, her shoulders slouched. Widow raised an eyebrow.

 

“Most agents wouldn’t complain about an assignment in Paris,” she said.

 

“I know you all think you shit sunlight and piss fine vintage, but believe it or not, I’ve been to better cities.” Widow looked down to hide her laughter, but she could tell Sombra saw it anyway. “And you know. Half the company at least’s a pain in the ass.”

 

“I’m hurt.” Sombra snorted and held the door open for her as they stepped out into the hall. “But. You’re sure there’s not another reason you’re reluctant about this mission?”

 

“What do you mean?” Sombra asked, sounding far too innocent to be genuine.

 

“Well. I have heard that you slept with one of the assassins–”

 

“Gossiping, Widow, really? Not a good look.”

 

“–and I imagine it might be uncomfortable to run into an old flame only too arrest her.”

 

“There are a few Assassins, Widow,” Sombra said. “And I’m a lady. I learn my date’s serial number before I take them to bed.”

 

“How chivalrous,” Widow said drily. “I notice that’s not a denial.” Sombra grinned and patted her cheek.

 

“It’s Akande,” she said. “So he’ll probably make us get up at ass o’clock to ship out. I’m going to pack and then turn in early. You should probably do the same.” And with that she pivoted and headed down the hallway, towards her quarters and away from Widow’s. Widow headed home as well, exasperated but smiling.

 

\-   

 

Akande did wake them early, though Widow was quite used to it. She and Akande would meet in the Talon gym around this time, to spar and talk. Today, however, Akande sat in the cockpit next to the pilot, and Widow was left in back with a very sleepy and very grumpy Sombra.

 

“I thought you said you were going to turn in early,” Widow said to her.

 

“I did,” Sombra said. “Went to bed at midnight. Still tired as fuck.” Widow rolled her eyes and did not respond. A couple minutes later, a weight hit her shoulder. Sombra’s head had fell to the side, her eyes shut and her mouth slightly open.

 

“As long as you don’t drool,” Widow muttered. Sombra did drool, but only slightly, and so Widow kept carefully static posture throughout the flight, as not to wake her. So she would be less cranky when she woke, Widow told herself.

 

And Sombra did seem in a better mood when the plane landed and she jolted awake. She looked up at Widow, startled, and then gave a guilty smile. “Thanks,” she said, and got up and headed out before Widow could respond.

 

The safe house apartment they were staying at was not particularly large, something Widow could tell bothered Akande as well. But it was more innocuous, he told her, and Sombra did not seem to mind. The space was completely wallless, and scattered the open floor plan was a kitchen area, a computer setup, a small lounge, and two beds. Widow frowned.

 

“There are three of us,” she said. Sombra turned to her and grinned.

 

“You big spoon or little?”

 

“There’s a couch,” Akande said, as he threw his duffel onto one of the beds. “One of you take that.”

 

“We could rotate,” Sombra said. “Like, one person takes the couch one night, the other the next…”

 

Akande got onto the bed and opened his holovid, and began flipping through it silently. Sombra sighed and turned to Widow. “Rock, paper, scissors, then?”

 

“Fine.” Widow watched Sombra’s hand carefully, and scowled when a rock emerged to counter her scissors. “You cheated.”

 

“I appreciate your faith in me, Spider, but I actually haven’t found a way to hack your skeletal system yet.”

 

“But you can control your skin thermoptics, maybe you set up some kind of algorithm–”

 

“Widow,” Akande said. “It shouldn’t be longer than a week, at most. And it’s a fine couch.”

 

Widow’s scowl deepened as she stomped towards the couch, the springs of Sombra’s bed creaking in the background. Her feet dangled off the edge when she lay down. Maybe, she thought, Sombra had been right to be grumpy.

 

-

 

Widow was not even allowed to get comfortable on the terrible couch. Akande told her and Sombra that he had a call with the Council and that in the meantime, they could perform basic reconnaissance.

 

Or, as Sombra put it, “He wants us to fuck off and wander around Paris so he can get some work done.” She gestured to the curbside bakery they were standing in front of. “Come on, Widow. We’re not going to bump into Unit #3 at the bus stop. You were excited about getting back to Paris, right? Let’s enjoy Paris.”

 

Widow chewed her lip. “We’re supposed to be working. We told Akande we would do this. And some of us care about keeping our word.”

 

“Please. This is just busywork Akande sent us on so we wouldn’t know he doesn’t wear pants when he teleconferences in.”

 

“He wears pants,” Widow said, a little sullenly. “He told me if you’re not dressed for work, you can’t get into a proper work mindset.”

 

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Okay. Well. Whatever. My point is, it’s not going to ruin Talon if we take a quick break.” The door to the bakery swung open and a women trotted out, holding a pink pastry box. Sombra watched Widow watch her, and grinned. “Come on. I bet they have great croissants.”

 

“Croissants? Really? What, did you think baguettes would be too stereotypical?”

 

“I like croissants!” Sombra said. Widow folded her arms. “And so I’m going to get one. You can come or not.”

 

And with that, Sombra walked into the bakery. Widow looked around the busy street and, seeing no genetically enhanced super assassins readily apparent, huffed and hurried after Sombra. Five minutes later they exited together, Widow balancing croissants and coffee on a tray.

 

“There,” Sombra said as she sat down. “Isn’t it good to finally relax a bit?” She promptly downed her espresso shot in one gulp. “Caffeine helps me relax,” she said to Widow’s dubious expression.

 

“Sure it does,” Widow said. She took a sip of her latte. “It is nice to get some good food, I suppose.”

 

“Yeah. You know, I felt obliged to get a croissant after I stuck up for them. But those orejas looked good too, if you’re down for seconds.”

 

Widow made a face. “You’re not selling them to me by calling them ears. They’re called palmiers. It’s objectively the better name.”

 

“Oreja is objectively the more hardcore name,” Sombra countered. “And it’s a language difference. They don’t have a ‘real’ name.”

 

“I’m pretty sure we invented them.” Sombra projected some screens and typed something into a search bar. She scanned the page, scowled, and snapped the screen shut. Widow grinned. “Was I right?”

 

“We do them better,” Sombra grumbled. Widow opened her mouth to shoot back but a flash of movement in the corner of her eye silenced her. She looked to the apartment building across the street in time to see a flash of red in one of the higher windows. When she looked back at Sombra, she saw her watching it as well.

 

“We can’t make a move without spooking her,” Sombra said quietly. “But if we survey the building, we might get a sense of where she’s going.”

 

“You knew she was here,” Widow said. “Why didn’t you tell Akande?”

 

Sombra shrugged and popped a piece of croissant into her mouth. “Needed a break from that guy,” she said. Her gaze was fixed on the busy street as she said it, so perhaps she didn’t notice how intently Widow studied her. She was lying, Widow concluded. Or at least not telling the whole truth.

 

Then Sombra grinned and added, “And anyway. Do I need an excuse to go on a date with a pretty girl?” And that Widow knew was a misdirection as well, but she suddenly had no desire to call Sombra on it, and no idea how to respond.

 

She stuffed a piece of croissant in her mouth instead and Sombra’s grin widened. As she chewed, Widow had time to think about how annoying that grin was, and how badly she wanted to wipe it off. When she finally replied she said, “If you had let me know, though, I could have made our first date a bit more special.”

 

Widow immediately felt a sting of anxiety, but Sombra’s eyes widened a little and that left her satisfied as well. “Oh yeah?” Sombra said, and Widow was proud to note Sombra was clearly putting effort into sounding casual. “What would you have us do?”

 

“Well for one,” Widow said. “I’d have made sure we actually got our target. I’d hate to leave you unsatisfied.”

 

Sombra laughed and after a moment, Widow gave her a tenuous smile. It wasn’t often she made people laugh, anymore.

 

“Next date, Spider,” Sombra said, taking another bite. “I promise.”

 

“Mmm.” Widow’s gaze turned back to the window, but there was no further movement. “It is strange that she’s our target at all, though. Why do you think Unit #3 left?”

 

Sombra snorted. “Have you met Moira? If I had to spend as much time with her as the Assassins do, I would have punched my way out of Talon base.”

 

“I have to spend time with her too,” she reminded Sombra.

 

“Yeah, but you’ve found a way to deal, right?”

 

Widow frowned but before she could ask Sombra what she meant, Sombra’s eyes flicked over to the building and narrowed. She cocked her head in its direction, and Widow glanced over to see an Omnic in a cabaret dress looking around furtively, then slipping through the door.

 

“I’ve been hearing about the Cabaret Luna from a lot of people,” Sombra said in a low voice. “People who wouldn’t just be interested in some pretty Omnics and nice music.”

 

Widow nodded and lifted her cup to her mouth. “If you're up for a second date so soon, I’m in the mood for a show tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It had to be a ladies’ night,” Akande grumbled. 

 

Widow stopped applying her eyeliner and looked back at him in the mirror. He had taken off the suit jacket and button down he wore for the council meeting and looked unusually casual in his undershirt and dress pants. He also looked grumpy. “I like ladies’ nights quite a bit,” she informed him. 

 

“This is business, not pleasure, Lacroix.” He picked up his holovid again and sighed. “I suppose I could go undercover, if I have to.”

 

Widow winced. Akande did not shy from challenges. He also was not a masochist. And she didn’t want him to subject himself to a night of being constantly misgendered. “We can handle it by ourselves,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

 

He nodded. “I trust you,” he said. He tapped at his holovid, scrolling to another app. “Just be prepared to work this one alone.”

 

Widow looked down at her eye shadow palette. “Sombra’s the one who found out she was going to be there,” she reminded him. 

 

“Yes, and isn’t it funny how things work out so conveniently like that.” 

 

Widow dipped the brush into the powder a bit more forcefully than she meant. “It’s her job,” she said. “You hired her because she’s good at her job. It seems a little silly to treat that like it’s treason now.”

 

Akande did not respond and as Widow brushed across her eyelid, she could see him watching her. She berated herself internally. She had had the exact same thoughts about Sombra this afternoon. She agreed with Akande. She didn’t know why she had turned this into an argument. 

 

“I wasn’t aware you and Sombra were close,” Akande said. Widow set down her brush and turned to face him. 

 

“We’re not,” she said. Akande looked unimpressed. “I don’t know. It depends on what your definition of close is, I suppose. I just…” Widow waved a hand in the air. “Like her, that’s all.”

 

“Like her,” Akande repeated. 

 

“As a friend,” Widow quickly specified, and it was the most transparent thing she could have possibly said. Akande ran a hand down his face and sighed. 

 

“She is quite talented,” he said. “And pretty. But if you asked me to put money on her staying at Talon long term, I’d walk away from the table. I don’t think she’s worth investment.”

 

“I’m not doing anything,” Widow said, very aware of how petulant she sounded.

 

“What I mean is that you can do better.” 

 

Widow shot Akande a bemused look as she spun her chair around, tying her bow tie. “I’m flattered, really, but I think I’ll pass.” He rolled his eyes. 

 

“As beautiful as our hypothetical children would be, Lacroix–”

 

“The most beautiful.”

 

“Quite,” he said, clearly struggling not to laugh. “That aside, you know that’s not what I meant.”

 

Widow stood and grabbed her suit jacket off the back of her chair. “I’m really not planning on doing anything,” she told him. “And like you said. This is business, not pleasure. You don’t need to worry.”

 

Akande sighed and picked up his holovid. “Just be careful, Lacroix,” he said. “I just want what’s best for you.” Widow did not know how to respond to that so she didn’t, just nodded and headed out the door.

 

-

 

Widow spotted Sombra the second she stepped out of the building, because how could she not. Sombra was leaning up against Widow’s car, wearing a wine colored draped minidress with a flowing cape attached. “You must be cold,” Widow said, carefully keeping her tone even and her eyes on Sombra’s face.

 

“But I’m hot, right?” Sombra said, and laughed when Widow groaned. “Speaking of pretty but impractical, this–,” she slapped the roof of the Ferrari, “–is ridiculous.” 

 

“It’s fast.”

 

“It’s going to be a bitch to park.” 

 

“I paid someone to reserve a spot directly in front of the club.” 

 

“Of course you did,” Sombra said. She walked around the car and Widow slipped into the driver’s seat next to her.

 

The Cabaret was conspicuous and bright, people streaming in and music streaming out. Parking may have been easy, but Sombra and Widow still had to push their way through the crowd to get to the bar. “I’ll have a mezcal,” Sombra yelled to the bartender, once she had gotten their attention. “And uh–” She turned to Widow. “I dunno what they have, you want me to ask for the house red or something?”

 

Widow kind of did, but she also was suddenly struck by how Sombra, leaned over the bar, the hem of her dress riding up her thigh and her seemingly not giving a shit about it. She was the kind of sultry the cabaret advertised and Widow very much wanted to match that, and didn’t think wine would do the job. 

 

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she said, and Sombra raised an eyebrow but repeated the order. Widow found a small table near the side of the room, and listened to the band warming up. Sombra wound her way back to her, and set down their drinks. 

 

“L’chaim,” Sombra said. She drank and Widow threw back her drink in one swig. Sombra stared. “Uh. You want another?”

 

Sombra almost certainly didn’t mean it as a challenge, but Widow took it as one anyway. “Yes,” she said. 

 

The band wound down and the lights dimmed. Widow drank. Sombra seemed enraptured by the warm up act, a trio of dancing Omnics with low voices and fluffy skirts, so Widow took it upon herself to replenish their drinks the second time. Sombra looked back up when Widow approached, and smiled quizzically. 

 

“Thought this was a mission.” Widow laughed. She liked Sombra, she liked that Sombra made her laugh. She moved her chair closer as she sat back down. 

 

“Well. It’s Paris too.” Sombra smiled and took her drink. Widow wrapped one hand around the glass and set the other on Sombra’s knee. She turned to face the stage, but she could tell Sombra was staring at her. 

 

“Widow.”

 

“Yes?” Widow turned back and oh, she was not sure exactly when she had gotten so close to Sombra. Sombra was whispering almost in her ear. 

 

“Widow, we have to get moving.”

 

“Really?” Widow murmured into Sombra’s neck. “You were the one who kept telling me to relax. Well, why don’t you?”

 

“Well, because you’re drunk, but also– look.”

 

Widow followed Sombra’s eyeline and caught just the disappearance of a sensible shoe and a blonde ponytail. But it was enough. She straightened up, the pleasantness of her buzz totally gone. “Ziegler,” she said. 

 

Sombra nodded. “She’s going backstage. How about I take you to the bathroom.”

 

The two pushed their way through the crowd and, once they rounded the corner, Sombra looked around furtively and activated her thermooptic camouflage. “Up,” Sombra whispered as she breezed past her, invisible. Widow looked up and saw that the stage and backstage walls were uneven, leaving an open space through which beams were visible. Glancing around her one more time, Widow grappled up to one of them.

 

She looked down quickly, but none of the heads in the dressing room were turned up to her. And one of the heads, she immediately saw, was in a red helmet. Unit #3 was sitting on a stool, hunched in on herself. Dr. Ziegler had her hand on her knee, and an Omnic in a flapper dress hovered above them. Luna was fidgeting and scanning the room– horizontally, Widow noted with gratitude, but she held perfectly still nonetheless.

 

“I know going up against Talon is intimidating,” Dr. Ziegler was saying. “But I can help you, if you come with me.” 

 

Unit #3 shook her head. “You don’t know. No one knows how strong they actually are. How advanced their tech is.”

 

Even from her removed vantage point, Widow saw Dr. Ziegler’s jaw twitch, and it made Widow smile. “I believe I am… quite familiar with much of Talon’s cybernetic research, at the least. And I know I can undo what they did to you. I promise.”

 

Unit #3 took a deep breath, the air whistling as it slipped through the vents in her helmet. Luna set a hand on her back, and Unit #3 jumped in her seat. Widow saw the flash of red of her visor for just a split second before the Assassin streaked out of her chair, landing on the wall and staring straight at her. Widow kept her eyes on her and the long, lethal blades on her arms, but she was painfully aware that Luna and Dr. Ziegler were looking at her as well. 

 

“They’re Talon,” Unit #3 said. “They’re here.”

 

“Out back,” Dr. Ziegler said. “Run.” Unit #3 fell to the ground and sliced through the door, letting in the night air and dim street light. Widow leapt down from her beam and headed to the door, only to have it blocked by Luna and Dr. Ziegler.

 

She stared at them coldly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“I’m not moving,” Luna said. “And I’m made of harder stuff than you, dear. Literally.” The mirror lights glinted off her metal body, and Widow looked between her and Dr. Ziegler. She might not be able to take Luna in a close combat fight, but the doctor, definitely, and the Omnic– 

 

Luna’s forehead eyes went dark and a purple skull wrapped around her body. Dr. Ziegler turned to her as she slumped over, and Widow landed a left hook to her jaw as she did. Dr. Ziegler collapsed to the floor next to Luna, gripping her chin, and Widow and a freshly visible Sombra clambered over them and out the door.  

 

Assassins were sprinters, not distance runners. They could zip around for a bit, but they were designed so that landing and hunting, regaining energy, was necessary if they wanted to continue. But as Widow entered the alley, she didn’t see the red light of Unit #3’s armor. Until she heard the roar of an engine at the end of the alley and, as she ran towards it, saw the Assassin speeding by, clutching a woman on the back of a motorcycle. As Widow stared after them, she heard Sombra running up behind her, tapping at her screens. She looked back to see Sombra accessing traffic cameras and drawing a hand down her face.

 

“Amari. The younger one. Fuck.” Sombra turned to Widow. “Give me the keys.”

 

“I can drive.”

 

“No, you can’t Widow, because again, you’re drunk. Stop wasting time and give me the keys.”

 

Widow tossed Sombra the keys. Sombra had to lean to catch them. Widow got into the passenger side of the car, her face burning. Sombra pulled out of the parking space with a screech and sped in the direction Amari had gone, cars honking in her wake. Sombra slid her traffic cam feeds over to Widow and Widow looked through them until she spotted the motorcycle. 

 

“Go straight another block, then right.” The next block went quickly as Sombra took the Ferrari closer to its top speed, and she turned the corner so sharply Widow needed to grab her seat to stay upright. “Careful! We can’t catch her if we crash.” 

 

“If I can get close enough to her, I can hack her,” Sombra said through gritted teeth. “And after that, I don’t care what happens to the car.” 

 

Widow sort of did but, very aware that she was not in a position to complain about conduct, said nothing. She grabbed her rifle and leaned out the car window, waiting for the Assassin to come into frame. 

 

“Hold on!” Sombra swerved to avoid another car, and Widow gripped the windowsill hard. Her head spun and she felt slightly nauseous. This was why she didn’t drink liquor. Straightening up and raising her scope to her eye, she caught the flash of red. 

 

“Sombra–”

 

“I know.” The car was accelerating. “Do it now. They’re getting into high traffic, and I can’t follow them there.”

 

Amari was weaving, Unit #3 was fidgeting, Widow felt ill from the motion and the tequila. It didn’t matter. She was the best shot in the world, she had gotten kills in far worse circumstances. She lined up her shot and pulled the trigger. 

 

She missed. 

 

Sombra slammed on the brakes as the bike dipped into a swarm of cars. The car was directly in the middle of an intersection and a car honked at them. Sombra didn’t move. Widow got fully back into the car and set her rifle on her lap. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Widow said. 

 

“Fuck,” Sombra said. “Akande’s going to kill me.” She turned the car around, flipping off the honking car as she did. 

 

“It’s not your fault,” Widow tried. “It was mine. I’ll tell him that.”

 

Sombra looked at her oddly for a moment, then laughed bitterly. “Yeah, honestly Widow? I think that’ll just make him want to kill me more. He likes being mad at me. It’s going to piss him the fuck off to have to be mad at you.”

 

Widow looked over at her. Sombra just seemed tired, more than anything else. The cape of her dress was bunched up on the seat behind her. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Widow said. 

 

“Don’t be,” Sombra said, not taking her eyes off the road. “It’s not your fault.” And of all the lies Sombra had ever told her, that one hurt the worst. 


	3. Chapter 3

Akande found her on the rooftop deck of the hotel. The bar was closed and the pool was tarped over until the summer, so Widow was alone on wicker sofa. Akande sat down next to her and sighed.

 

“I’m not happy with how today went,” he said after a moment. “But it’s not the end of the world.”

 

Widow stared straight ahead. She did not know what he wanted her to say. She wasn’t a child, who needed reassurance in the face of the slightest bit of disapproval. She had failed before and she would fail again and while she did not like failing, it didn’t dent her resolve. She didn’t know what he wanted, period.

 

“Even if what Sombra says is true–”

 

“It is,” Widow cut in. “I drank too much on the mission. It impeded my performance.”

 

Akande let out a long breath. “Even so. I want you to know that this is a small blip in an otherwise stellar record. My opinion of you has not changed.”

 

And with that, Widow understood. Akande used businesslike language when conversation became uncomfortably personal. Akande spoke like her boss when he was unsure how to speak to her as her friend. Widow understood now, but that just made her more annoyed.

 

“Your opinion of me has absolutely changed,” she said. 

 

“Not significantly, it hasn’t. I still trust you, Lacroix.”

 

“No you don’t,” Widow said. “I just let you down. You’d be stupid to trust me. And you’re not stupid.”

 

“I don’t–” Akande pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s no one I trust with everything all the time,” he said after a minute. “So if that’s what you mean by trust than you’re right, I don’t trust you. But if someone asked me to pick anyone in the world to watch my back, I would pick you. That’s what I mean by trust.”

 

“Of course you’d pick me to watch your back. I’m a sniper. We’re the best back watchers.”

 

Akande stared at her for a moment, baffled, then put his hand over his mouth and muffled his giggle. Despite herself, Widow smiled. 

 

“I’m not very good at being comforting,” Akande told her when his laughter had quieted. Widow shrugged. 

 

“I’m not very good at being comforted.”

 

“Well then. We’re quite a pair.” Widow nodded and then, after a moment’s hesitation, rested her head on Akande’s shoulder. He put his arm around her, utterly naturally, like they were the kind of friends who cuddled all the time. 

 

“I know you said it was your fault, not hers,” Akande said after a minute. “But I still think it’s something she did. Whatever happened tonight, she shouldn’t have done it to you.”

 

“I told you, Sombra didn’t do anything wrong,” Widow said. “And that’s me saying that. You trust me, remember?”

 

Akande shook his head, smiling, and didn’t respond. They stayed there, silent and peaceful, for a while, until Akande’s holovid rang and he jolted. He looked down and groaned. “I have to take this,” he told Widow. 

 

“That’s okay.” Widow stretched out her arms. “I should head down soon, anyway.” Akande nodded and head for the stairs, quickly switching back to businesslike as he took the call. Widow stared up at the moon until she heard the door close behind him, then grabbed her purse and followed him. 

 

She was at the top of the stairs when she saw it. A flash of purple, arcing out a window towards the opposite roof. Sombra’s translocator. 

 

Widow stood there, her hand on the bannister, her eyes on the opposing roof. Sombra had been kind to her today, for Sombra. Sombra had been diligent about the mission, she had thought. She didn’t want Akande’s suspicions to be true, Widow realized with a start. She didn’t want that almost as much as she wanted to know the truth. 

 

But there was that almost. Widow pulled her visor out of her bag and activated its infrasight. Sombra’s unique signature lit up on the opposing roof, headed downtown. Widow waited until she was a safe distance away, then grappled across the rooftops and began to follow her. 

 

-

 

Sombra did not go far. Their hotel was near the cabaret, and Widow’s heart sank as she realized that was Sombra’s destination. She watched from the shadows as Sombra picked the lock and slipped inside. She waited until Sombra’s signature was far from the door, then she entered as well. 

 

Sombra was not in the front room, mercifully. Widow walked silently across the scuffed wooden floor, and was able to line herself up along the curtain hiding the backstage to eavesdrop, and watch as Amari, Ziegler, Luna, and Unit #3 listened to Sombra raptly. 

 

“...think you’re well outside the city by now,” Sombra was saying. “I’ll run scans tomorrow, and ‘confirm’ it for them. They’ll start looking in Numbani next, most likely. But they’ll never think to check Giza.”

 

“I can treat you there,” Ziegler told Unit #3. “Then you’ll be untraceable to them. You can live your own life, after that.”

 

Unit #3 nodded, her clawed hands clasped tightly. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I can ever repay you. Either of you,” she added, looking up at Sombra, who ducked her head in response. 

 

“It’s okay,” Sombra said. “Kind of had to do this.” And with that, Widow could not stay in the shadows anymore, even though it was far smarter to continue to gather intel, even though she was far outnumbered. She stepped through the curtain. Luna gasped, Sombra wheeled around and widened her eyes. 

 

“Widow,” she started, then stopped when Widow simply raised her rifle aloft. 

Luna moved between Widow and the other woman. “There are no guns in my cabaret,” she said, glaring at the rifle in Widow’s hands. 

 

“Yes there are,” Widow said. “I’m in your cabaret. I have a gun. So there’s a gun in your cabaret.” She looked around Luna, at Sombra, Fareeha, and Angela. “And you three are really telling me you aren’t armed?”

 

“I’m not,” Angela said. Fareeha and Sombra stood in awkward silence. Widow rolled her eyes. 

 

“In any case. Someone working with a traitor has little moral ground to stand on.” Widow swept past Luna until her rifle bumped into Sombra’s chest. Sombra’s eyes flicked between the gun and her. “You betrayed us,” Widow said. “Again.” She hated how her anger slipped into her voice, and how Sombra’s eyes softened a bit with something like pity. 

 

“I didn’t,” Sombra said. “Not like I have before, at least. Widow, this is different, you have to let me explain.”

 

“You sabotaged the mission,” Widow said, ignoring her. “You got me drunk–”

 

“No I didn’t,” Sombra cut in. “Like, yeah I wasn’t going to let you catch her, but I didn’t think–”

 

“You made a fool out of me, all so you could protect some fucking ex girlfriend–”

 

“Widow, stop!” Widow snapped her mouth shut and glared at Sombra. Sombra was glaring back, and Widow realized this was the first time she had seen Sombra genuinely upset. Normally, Sombra never allowed anyone to see her feeling something real. “She’s not– we never hooked up. I was teasing you before. But I’m fucking done with that now. I didn’t get you drunk, I’m not thinking with my pussy, I’m not fucking around anymore.”   

 

Widow lowered the gun a fraction of an inch and just like that, Sombra was pulling her away from the backstage, into the darkened front room. “It doesn’t matter why you did it,” Widow said, as Sombra dropped her arm. “You still did it, you still betrayed Talon–”

 

“Do you know what  _ Talon _ does to make these assassins, Widow?” Sombra hissed. Widow folded her arms and said nothing. “They take young girls, preferably orphans,” Sombra continued, answering herself and sending a twinge down Widow’s spine as she remembered that Sombra was an orphan as well. “They put them on insane steroid and mutator regiments. Train them 22 hours a day, they make it so they just need like an hour of sleep physically, absolutely wrecks the girls mentally. They brainwash them so when they’re in battle, when adrenaline kicks in, the desire to kill is almost overwhelming.” Sombra leaned back against the stage, meeting Widow’s eyes steadily now. “I let a lot of shit slide, because Talon gives me what I need. But this is just too fucking much, Widow. Especially since they know what’s going on. They start to be their own people again, when they get older. The brainwashing never takes fully.”

 

“I’m brainwashed,” Widow said. “They brainwashed me. It took fully.”

 

“I don’t believe that,” Sombra said. She took a step forward so her eyes were out of the shadow, and Widow could feel their full weight now. “But you can prove it to me. You can go back there and take Unit #3. You can bring her back to Talon and make sure she never goes free. You choose here, Widow.”

 

The only lights in the club were the streetlights peeking through windows, the backstage lights leaking in, and Sombra’s cybernetics. The world felt almost dreamlike to Widow, like she was not full awake. She felt numb. Sombra took her hand and squeezed it, then lead her backstage. Amari had a gun trained on them as they entered and Ziegler was bodily blocking Unit #3. Luna was sitting at her dressing table, looking as weary as an Omnic could look. 

 

“Well?” Amari said. “What’s going on?” Sombra looked up at Widow. She was still holding her hand. 

 

“She goes,” Widow said. “I won’t stop her.”

 

Luna made a noise of relief. Amari did not relax at all. She kept the gun trained on Sombra and Widow as Ziegler lead the Assassin out the back door. Widow thought she heard Unit #3 softly say “Thank you,” as the door closed behind them. Luna waited until the roar of Amari’s motorcycle faded, then she stood and walked over to the two remaining women. 

 

“You did something great here,” she said. “I know it wasn’t easy. But it is was worth it. Thank you.”

 

“I want to talk to you,” Widow said to Sombra. She pivoted and pushed through the curtain, back to the front of the house. 

 

“Can we have some privacy?” Sombra asked Luna. 

 

Widow faintly heard Luna grumble, “This is my cabaret” as she sat on the stage again. Sombra stood in front of her and when the sound of the back door closing reached them, Sombra’s shoulders dropped and she took a step forward. 

 

“So Widow,” Sombra said, all faux-casual. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

Widow kissed her, and Sombra didn’t even have the decency to act surprised, just kissed her back. Sombra’s hands went to her sides. Widow scooted backwards and Sombra awkwardly followed, hoisting herself onto the stage. She made a face as her belt scraped against the dance floor and undid and Widow, not to be outdone, shrugged off her suit jacket. Sombra blinked and set her hand on her thigh. 

 

“Do you want to…?”

 

“Yeah,” Widow breathed. Sombra grinned and moved on topping her, gently pushing her down. The stage floor was even harder than the sofa, Widow mused. But she and Sombra were alone here and it was dark and silent except for their heavy breathing, and so she would not trade it for the world. 

 

-

 

Akande was fast asleep when Widow and Sombra got back to their hotel room. “I texted him that I was going looking for Unit #3’s cybernetic signature,” Sombra had told her, as they were putting their clothes back to rights. 

 

“He just trusts me,” Widow had responded, and Sombra had made a face so annoyed that Widow had simply had to kiss it. 

 

In any case, he was snoring as the two tiptoed past. Widow sat on the sofa and raised an eyebrow when Sombra followed. 

 

“He’s not that heavy a sleeper,” she whispered, and Sombra grinned and shook her head. 

 

“Not that,” Sombra said. “You just never answered. Big spoon or little?”

 

Widow had not thought about that in years but thinking about it now, her point of reference was just an hour in the past. Holding Sombra had made her feel impossibly safe. “Big,” she said, and Sombra kissed her. 

 

“Works for me,” Sombra said, and then she went back to her bed. Widow lay down and slept easily. 

 

-

 

Akande was stone-faced as he listened to Sombra’s report. “I’d like to do a brief survey of the city with Lacroix as well,” he said when she was finished. 

 

“Works for me,” Sombra said. “I wanted to get some shopping anyway.” Akande pinched the bridge of his nose and Sombra blew Widow a kiss over his shoulder as she danced out the door. Widow carefully kept the smile off her face. 

 

“Let’s start at the cabaret,” she told him. 

 

It was almost a depressing place, in the daytime. There was just prerecorded music and sad day drinkers as Widow and Akande poked around, under the watchful eye of the Omnic bartender. Widow breathed a sigh of relief when they exited, and only partially because they had found nothing. 

 

“We still have other Assassins,” she said to Akande as they retraced the route she and Sombra had taken the night before. He nodded. 

 

“We do,” he said. “And honestly, I was never a huge proponent of that… kind of soldier.” Widow looked up at him questioningly and he grimaced. “I believe in Talon’s mission. Others believe in Talon’s mission. That should be enough. We shouldn’t have to brainwash people to get them to join us.”

 

“I’m brainwashed,” Widow said. Akande laughed. 

 

“I don’t believe that,” he said. Widow considered that and they walked in silence. They stopped at a crosswalk at the busy street where she had lost Unit #3 and Amari the first time. 

 

“I know you don’t like Sombra,” Widow said. “And I don’t blame you. But I do. Like her.”

 

The walk sign blinked on but Akande stood still, considering Widow. Then he laughed again and started across the street. “I believe that the struggle is what makes us strong, Lacroix,” he said, as she fell into place beside him. “And if you like Sombra? That can be your struggle.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to do some kind of series for Femslash February, and the Paris map inspired me. Title is from the Chainsmokers song because I have no shame.
> 
> I'm @tacticalgrandma on twitter/tumblr if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


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